Let it Out on the Exhale
by cheshcat13
Summary: For the first time in his life, Shouto's time is (mostly) his own, but it's not long before he's isolated himself in his studio apartment, depressed and apathetic about it. It takes a not-so-gentle push from Fuyumi and a serendipitous moment on a green Spring day to make him realize that maybe he doesn't know as much as he thought he did.
1. What happened to Thursday?

**(A/N: This is an interactive fic, see the notes at the end to see how you can play along) **

**Content Warnings: mental illness, mentions of psychological/emotional abuse (because Endeavor), very minor passive suicidal thoughts**

Shouto is already awake, has been for hours, when he hears the sound of keys jingling in the hall outside his apartment. He rolls over on his futon and pulls his comforter tighter around his shoulders at the familiar click of his deadbolt being unlocked.

Fuyumi's soft footsteps rustle on the tatami as she toes off her shoes and moves across the room to open the curtains. Bright afternoon light fills his room and white spots pepper Shouto's vision as he groans and ducks his head under his blanket.

"Shouto," his sister scolds, but the lump on the futon that sits in the corner of his modest studio doesn't budge. Fuyumi sighs, "you didn't move out so you could lay in bed all day."

A fist pounds on the inside of Shouto's skull, his mouth is sticky and dry, and, when he opens it to speak, a wheeze escapes. After a cough and a few raspy breaths, he's finally able to will his unpracticed voice to work, "I'm doing the internship, what more do you want?" There's an edge to the words as they trip off his tongue in his usual monotone. He flinches a little at Fuyumi's gasp, and scoots over on instinct when he feels the futon shift under his sister's weight as she sits down and tugs the comforter off his face.

"You know I'm not just talking about the internship, don't be rude." Finally, Shouto rolls over and meets Fuyumi's gaze, her brow knitted in frustration as she watches him reach for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the floor in front of him before sitting up and facing his sister. He shakes the pack before pulling out a smoke. Only three left, he notes, he'll have to go to the store today, after all.

As soon as it's lit, Fuyumi is pulling the cigarette from his lips and snubbing it out with a huff.

"I hate it when you do that."

There's ice in Shouto's eyes when he glares back, "I left to avoid the nagging."

He doesn't miss the hurt in Fuyumi's gaze, and struggles to swallow over the lump that grows in his throat. He knows he's being unfair, he can count the number of people who care about him on one finger, and is apparently dead set on reducing it to zero. His gaze falls somewhere to the right, as he manages an awkward apology, "Shit, sorry Fuyu."

"I just want you to be happy and healthy, Shou." Fuyumi's voice is quiet as she wrings her hands in her lap, "and maybe make it to lunch when you say you will."

Shouto squints in confusion, "That was today? I could've sworn we made plans for Friday."

"It is Friday." Fuyumi deadpans. Shouto's face falls at the information. He's sure yesterday was Wednesday. He grabs his phone from the box he uses as a makeshift nightstand and the screen proves Fuyumi right.

He's far away as he wracks his brain for Thursday, but the last thing he remembers is drinking a six-pack after his internship and then waking up at ten that morning.

What happened to Thursday? Had he slept right through it?

Fuyumi's concern is evident in the slight downturn of her lips and the crease in her brow. Shouto hates it and does his best to ignore the faint itch of embarrassment that bubbles under his skin. His wandering gaze lands on the ashtray on the floor and gets stuck there.

"Look Shouto, I know you agreed to the internship so you could move out, but I was hoping you'd use it as an opportunity, not an excuse to stay in bed until 3pm." The lilt of Fuyumi's voice is gentle as a lullaby, but the words still sting.

Honestly, Shouto doesn't know what to do. He's never really had friends or hobbies. Besides, he doesn't really care much about anything, and mostly never has, so his face is blank as he looks her in the eye and let's the first excuse that comes to mind out, "I happen to like my bed."

Fuyumi throws up her arms and groans in frustration, "everyone likes their bed! It's not a good reason to never leave your house!"

"I do leave my house…"

"Crawling to the corner store for cigarettes and beer does not count." Her arms cross over her chest and Shouto opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't have a chance to before Fuyumi cuts him off, "and I know you're only interning Monday to Wednesday right now, which doesn't count either because I also know you're miserable there."

Fuyumi's gaze is pointed as she stares at Shouto, challenging him to argue.

So he crosses his own arms to mirror her and meets her eyes with defiance.

With a frown, she sighs and pats Shouto's knee. "I just wish you'd try a little harder. Get a job! Make some friends! I worry about you alone all the time."

His expression softens at that, he hates that she worries about him, though he knows she always has. Any excuse he was about to make dies on his tongue.

Fuyumi stands, a sad smile planting itself on her lips, "I have papers to grade, I'll text you about rescheduling lunch."

Shouto watches as Fuyumi gathers her things and steps in her shoes. Before walking out the door, she turns back to him, a spark of determination lighting up the wobbly upturn of her mouth, "just think about it okay?"

Then, she's gone, and Shouto is left staring at the door.

His life at home had been on a rigid schedule, honor classes, private lessons, piano, internships, his father wouldn't settle for second best and he pushed Shouto hard to follow in his footsteps.

The groan that escapes as he reaches for the cigarette Fuyumi had put out is heavy.

Don't I deserve a break? he thinks as he lights it and relishes the way the smoke fills his lungs even as it burns his throat.

Still, the weight of the downturn of Fuyumi's pathetic attempt at a smile haunts him and leaves him with a guilty pit in his stomach.

Okay, he'll think about it.

It's not long before he's finished off the pack. He has a bad habit of chain-smoking when he's feeling particularly frustrated and he growls at the empty box in his hand.

He stumbles a little as he crawls off his futon and pulls on the crumpled sweatpants he'd shoved off the night before -or was it two nights ago?-.

The deep bags under his eyes catch his attention in the bathroom mirror and he scowls as he straightens the part in his messy red hair.

With a final sigh, he shoves his feet into his shoes and heads out the door.

The market that Shouto frequents is only a couple of blocks away, but his studio is located on a busy main street, crowded with cafes and shops. Shouto avoids leaving as much as possible, hates the crowds that gather and fill the neighborhood with mindless chatter.

Shouto's never really felt comfortable in casual social settings, he has an overbearing father and his own chronic apathy to blame for that. Enji's always discouraged him from making friends, claiming they would only serve as a distraction from his mandatory studies. Shouto isn't sure if he's ever agreed with the sentiment, but it doesn't matter either way because he's never managed to make any friends, not meaningful ones, at least.

Not even when he'd finally convinced Enji to let him go to public school. He didn't do it because he was lonely, he isn't sure if he was, really, but because it offered him a few precious hours away from his father's angry gaze and constant berating. Not to mention the ghostly afterimages his mother's presence had left behind in his childhood home, the ones that turned his blood to ice and kept him awake at night, sick with guilt and regret.

The street is mostly empty as Shouto exits his apartment building. Relief floods his exhale as he takes in the cherry blossoms that litter the sidewalk and glares at the sun as it warms the late spring sky.

His shoulders hunch as he ambles along, lost in his thoughts, trapped by resentment for his father, haunted by a mother he hardly remembers.

It only takes five minutes to get to the store, then another five to grab a six-pack and a carton of smokes. Once outside, he pulls one out, lights it, and relishes the heat in his chest.

He'd smoked his first to piss Enji off, underestimating how addicting the cancer sticks truly are. He shrugs the thought away, doesn't really care that he's sending himself to an early grave.

The gentle breeze ruffles Shouto's unkempt bangs as he drags his feet back to his apartment.

He's a block away from his destination when the sound of laughter from somewhere to his left reaches his ears. He's not sure what makes him glance over, he's always been skilled at tuning out the world around him, but something about the boisterous giggle reminds him of something he doesn't know as faint shades of green tease at the edges of his vision. It fills him with inexplicable comfort and he doesn't even notice the way his eyes sting at the feeling.

He can't see the source of the laughter, but it suddenly doesn't matter as his eyes zone in on the Help Wanted sign propped up in the window of the small cafe in front of him.

His chest floods with something like warmth, and, before he can stop himself, he's reaching for his phone and adding the number to his contacts.

He's still undecided about making friends, but maybe a job would be enough to get Fuyumi off his case.

(That's what he tells himself anyway, but his head is beginning to ache as he searches his memory for the sweet sound of a laugh he's sure he's never heard before.)

Using the butt of his first, he lights another cigarette, before flicking it out and tossing it in the trash can. With a final glance at the small storefront tucked between a bookstore and a post office, Shouto turns and heads home.

(The glare of the sun is shining against the windows, so Shouto couldn't see the person cleaning the glass from the inside, didn't notice when they'd paused their task at the sight of him taking down the cafe's number, and missed the curious green eyes that watched him walk away from Plus Ultra Coffee Company).

**What happens next?**

**1\. Midoriya's POV  
****2\. Shouto goes to the cafe to apply for the job**  
**3\. Enji makes an appearance**

A/N: Okayyyy maybe this is a product of me avoiding my other fic, but at least I'm being productive? (For those of you reading As I Live and Breathe, chapter 7 is coming, I promise).

A little backstory, I found this thing I wrote last fall and like it well enough, but only vaguely remember where it was going. SO, I thought I'd have a little fun and make this fic interactive! I'll post two or three options at the end of each chapter. It's up to you to leave a comment with the one you like best and, after the chapter has been up for three days (or until it has at least one comment, let's be real, nobody might read this), I'll tally up the votes and go with the majority. I'm not planning on having a posting schedule, but I'm going to keep the chapters pretty short, which should make for faster updates. I will also post the winning option, and maybe a small preview, over at my tumblr: wordsandstuffbyme on the day the vote is counted, so follow me there for updates, timelines, and sneak peeks. OKAY thank you for reading this long ass end note, AND clicking on this fic. You're all wonderful, let's have a blast, shall we?


	2. You Know Who I Am!

**(A/N: Hi there, doodles! Thank you so much for the comments and favorites! I'm having a blast writing this, so SURPRISE chapter two is ready. I had to have my roommate act as a neutral tie-breaker and the winner was option 2! Shouto goes to the cafe to apply for the job. Hope you enjoy!)**

Before he has a chance to second guess himself, Shouto rushes up the stairs of his apartment building, taking them two at a time as he stumbles to the fourth floor. "Shit," he curses as his fingers fumble for his keys, dropping them in his hurry to get to his computer.

He's pushing on the door as soon as the lock clicks, and it swings open wide under his weight. He closes it with a slam and doesn't bother taking off his shoes as he lurches forward into the room, drops the six-pack and his keys on the floor, and falls heavy into the chair at his desk.

It only takes a few clicks for his resume to appear on the screen. It's almost a year old now, having been written in anticipation of his current internship. Enji insisted it was an important formality and he should appreciate the practice, like Shouto hadn't been practicing since the moment he learned to read. He suspected his father only wanted to show off the hard work he would absolutely take all credit for.

Whatever, Shouto was used to being made to feel like a circus animal, pointlessly jumping through flaming hoops, an exclusive act for Enji's big top.

_Not today, Satan,_ Shouto thinks as his lips turn down in a scowl and he deletes the objective section of the document in front of him.

With a few quick edits, Shouto is hitting print and waiting for the familiar whir of his printer. He's aware that there is a gaping hole in his relevant experience, but he hopes his accolades and community service are enough to prove he's dedicated and cares about people. Even if the truth is it's forced dedication, and he doesn't really think he does care about anybody, besides Fuyumi anyway.

Leaving the paper in his printer, nimble fingers pull a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket and he rests it on his lips as he opens a new document and types in his header and greeting.

He shouldn't be surprised when his hurried resolve squeals to a screeching halt as he gets the meat of his cover letter. The bar taunts him as it blinks on the first line under "To Whom it May Concern," so he fishes for his lighter and inhales deep the moment the end sparks red.

Smoke billows from his lips as he fails to come up with any coherent reason as to why he would like to work for Plus Ultra Coffee Company.

"My sister is worried about my mental health and she thinks a job will keep me from isolating myself," is probably inappropriate, and also more information than he thinks he'd like to share with a complete stranger.

"I was walking by on a smokes and beer run and heard somebody laughing. It sounded familiar, but not, and I'm hoping they work here and I can spend hours listening to that sound," is actually creepy and doesn't really make any sense.

So, instead of writing a generic cover letter describing his interest in customer service and coffee, he takes another drag of the cigarette resting in between the pointer and middle finger of his right hand, and puts the screen to sleep. He'll sit on it for a bit, come up with something later.

Shouto might be awkward and rude, but he's not a _liar_.

He spends the rest of the weekend in his bed, pointedly ignoring his computer and walking a few blocks out of his way when he needs to grab supplies.

He stews and scowls and pushes it from his mind, wondering why he even cares, but every time he thinks he should just give up, the melodic sound of joy fills his ears and he's back to considering if he'd rather they think he's pathetic or insane.

It's still on his mind when he gets to his internship at eight am Monday morning. For once, he's grateful for the distraction, coffee runs and copious amounts of filing keep him from lingering on the page that is still open on his computer screen. Blank white laughing at his equally blank brain.

In the end, it takes him a week to write it, opting with his interest in trying something new, and he doesn't think he could have been vaguer.

Another three days go by before he's actually ready to drop it off at the cafe.

Well, that's not entirely true. He walks by the cafe on each of those days, even leaves his apartment just to drop it off on Saturday, but every time he peers into the window there's someone new working.

A man with black hair that shines almost blue in the light and stern eyes stands behind the register on Friday. On Saturday there's a girl with chin-length brown hair at the espresso machine, a wide smile on her face as she chats with the customers at the end of the bar. Purple hair floats behind the pastry case before a man with bags etched under his eyes and a gaze almost as bored as Shouto's stands up with tongs in his hand on Sunday.

Every time, he makes it only a few steps towards the door before his nerves act up and he's rushing away with a frustrated scowl. Something about it just doesn't feel right, and Shouto isn't sure why, so he walks away, intent to try again tomorrow.

It's a last minute decision as he tucks the papers into his shoulder bag on Monday morning before heading out the door to his father's law firm. Shouto doesn't usually like to do anything after his internship, preferring to crawl into his bed with a smoke and a beer and forget about the whole world.

But the papers beckon to him from their spot on his desk and he thinks it wouldn't hurt to have them on him, so he takes them with him. Just in case.

The day drags by at a snail's pace. He's stuck at the copier until lunch, robotically printing and sorting stacks of case notes. It's dull work and not enough to keep him from obsessing over the papers in his bag. His body is buzzing with nervous energy, though one wouldn't be able to tell by his appearance, bored and aloof as always.

It's been a long time since he's cared so much about anything, and it bothers him that he doesn't know why.

(He's willfully obtuse to the fact that getting a job on the very slim chance that he might meet someone whose laugh comforted him in a way that left his skin crawling, but his heart warm is probably a little out of touch with reality.)

So, he keeps up his mantra that he's doing it for Fuyumi and resorts to mentally reciting Rhode Island's property laws. It's useless information, but Enji wanted to be sure Shouto knew everything, which lead to the well of pointless knowledge now in Shouto's possession. He's only a little bitter to admit that it's at least helpful when he needs to think about something that isn't the one thing he can't seem to stop thinking about.

After lunch is more of the same, filing away the pages he had copied earlier. He's beginning to genuinely consider the benefits of buying a house in Rhode Island- he'd be far away from Enji, at least, and he's always liked the East Coast- by the time he's packing up his things and heading to the train station.

His nerves reignite the moment he steps off the train, a cigarette already perched in his lips, lighter in hand. With slow steps he starts the ten-minute walk home, skin starting to itch in anticipation as he draws closer to his destination.

He's close enough that he can just make out the door, shadowed by a blue, red, and yellow striped awning, his heart is thudding in his chest and he's honestly just sick of it at this point.

"Alright, that's enough," there's gravel in his voice as he mumbles resignation to himself.

With angry resolve, he flicks his cigarette out and tosses it in the trash can on the corner. His steps are pounding now, sturdy and full of determination as he marches up the sidewalk, down the flower bed lined stone path, and right through the door.

Todoroki Shouto is not a coward.

Except maybe when he registers the face of the person standing at the counter, watching him with a quirk to his brow and a little humor on his lips. He stops abruptly as a faint recognition once again scratches at his thoughts. It's not that he looks familiar, Shouto is sure he would remember meeting someone with cheeks that are round in just the right way and freckles that punctuate them. Not to mention the fluffy green curls atop his head, though his roots expose him for the brunette he actually is or the way his green eyes shine so bright, like the sun.

Shouto hates the sun, but the warmth that he feels looking at the man who seems to be waiting for him to speak is comforting in the same way the laugh had been, doesn't burn him from the inside out. He's really not sure if he should run away or leap into this stranger's arms and beg him to never leave his side. He doesn't really have a choice either way, his feet are cemented to the floor and he can only gape as the man opens his mouth to fill the silence. Shouto gulps a little at the sparkle in those deep, forest green eyes. It's a forest Shouto thinks he might like to get lost in.

_Oh my god, what is happening to me_, Shouto thinks, willing away the accelerated patter of his heartbeat at the sound of the man's voice, which is somehow also managing to shine.

"Uh- Welcome to Plus Ultra Coffee Company, what can I get for you?"

In an instant, Shouto's mission is remembered and he's quickly lifting the flap on his shoulder bag and pulling out his cover letter and resume in a rush.

The man's eyes shoot up at the paper's so suddenly appearing in his hands.

Before he has enough time to become flustered, again, Shouto slips into prospective employee mode, straightening his spine and maintaining eye contact as he speaks, "I saw your help wanted sign and wanted to offer my interest."

His hand gestures to the resume and watches as the man's, Izuku's, his name tag reads, eyes look him up and down before finally settling on the words in his hand. The slight disappointment that darkens the green in his eyes confuses Shouto, but it's gone as fast as it came and Shouto chalks it up to a trick of the light.

Shouto does his best to be patient as he rocks a little on his heels and watches Izuku read over his professional life. He's mumbling a little out loud to himself, but it's too quiet for Shouto to hear anything more than, "that's a lot of hours…" and "wow, summa cum laude," so he thinks Izuku must be leaning in favor of hiring him.

It's a surprise then, when Izuku finally looks up, and Shouto's stomach drops at the frown on his face.

"Thank you for your interest, but I don't think this is the right position for you," he says, extending the papers back to him.

Shouto has never been one to hold his tongue, so he doesn't think twice before spouting off the first thing that comes to mind. "Excuse me? Can you read? I'm more than qualified."

Pink blooms over freckled cheeks, but he doesn't appear upset at Shouto's defiance, "that's exactly the problem," he explains pointing at the laundry list of internships and acceptances, "you have too much experience, it's not likely you will enjoy being in a role that doesn't utilize your ample skill set."

A scowl makes its way to Shouto's lips, "maybe I don't enjoy what I'm doing now. Maybe I want to try something new."

Izuku's pointer finger makes its way to his chin as he considers Shouto's words, "do you even know how to make coffee?" He finally asks, eyes bright and inquisitive.

"I- well…" Somehow, in all the time he spent worrying over why he wanted the job, he had not once taken into consideration the fact that no, he did not know how to make coffee. His face pales as he thinks of the stained coffee pot in his tiny kitchenette. Though he makes coffee in it every day, he can never seem to get the ratio of grounds to water right, either ending up with coffee flavored water or gasoline. He doesn't really care, only drinks it for the caffeine, prefers tea if he's being honest.

Izuku is waiting for him to collect himself, so he shoves off his nerves and answers honestly, "No, I do not, but I am a fast learner. I've done a lot of studying, as you can see."

Shouto is not prepared for Izuku to laugh, though he thinks he shouldn't be surprised when the laugh is nearly identical to the one that got him here in the first place.

Somehow, seeing the source of said laughter makes it impossibly better. Shouto can only stare as something in his stomach flutters at the sight of Midoriya's head thrown slightly back, shoulders shaking, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth opened wide.

Shouto wishes he could take a picture, instead settles for memorizing the wrinkles that crease the corners of Izuku's eyes, the way the pink in his cheeks obscures his freckles.

Beautiful, and Shouto doesn't have time to overthink that bizarre thought, before Izuku's laughter is dying down and he's looking at Shouto with tears shining in his eyes.

He leans forward over the counter and toward Shouto, the look in his eyes is kind and understanding, but there's a sadness there that Shouto mistakes for pity. He hates it, but he's gotten this far, and if it's pity that gets him the job, well, so be it.

"You really want to work here?"

Shouto can't help but feel like Izuku can see right through him, X-ray vision picking apart everything that is Shouto, which is, honestly, not much. He can only manage a gulp and a nod as he meets Izuku's gaze head-on, willing determination to override the unease he's starting to feel. It's not enough to overshadow how inexplicably good it feels to be in Izuku's presence.

For Fuyumi, Shouto thinks, and it's getting harder to lie to himself.

So, he clears his throat and voices his affirmation, even attempts to be polite, "yes, please."

Izuku's smile is wide, even if the sadness hasn't entirely dissipated. "Great! Can you start…" he pauses as he reads over the availability listed at the bottom of Shouto's resume, "Friday? At 10:30? It's usually quiet around then, so it'll be easy to start training."

Shouto doesn't have to think twice, not that he would anyway, "yes, Friday at 10:30, I'll be here."

"Perfect! Here," Izuku disappears behind the counter for a moment before reappearing with a stack of papers, passing them to Shouto as he continues, "this is all the necessary paperwork and the employee handbook. Study up!"

There's a teasing lilt to his tone, and it leaves the tips of Shouto's ears pink. Studying is second nature to him by this point, so he nods, his eyes serious, "I will do my best, thank you, Izuku."

He's not sure why he used the name, knows it's rude without having asked, and Izuku seems to be just as surprised as he is.

Izuku's surprise is a pleasant one it seems, as the sadness that had been lingering in his eyes disappears and makes way for a joy that Shouto can't help but bask in.

"You know who I am!"

The light in his eyes startles Shouto, so his thoughts come out before they reach his brain, "no, your nametag- do I know you?"

Bile rises up in Shouto's throat when Izuku's face falls, and the slight croak in his voice is unmistakable, "no, sorry," Izuku says with a shake of his head and shining eyes. A self-deprecating chuckle escapes his lips as runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm just being weird, sorry."

Shouto thinks he might sell his left kidney if it meant dispelling the awkwardness that hangs heavy in the air around them, but it only lasts for a moment before Izuku is standing up tall and lighting up the room with a smile.

The way Shouto's heart skips a beat at the sight is jarring and confusing and he's not sure he knows what he's doing. At all.

Neither of them says anything, but they also don't move, just stare at each other long enough to feel like Izuku is reading his mind again. Needles prick at his skin, so he rubs at his arm and offers a farewell, "well, I guess I'll see you Friday, then."

"Yep, see you Friday, Shouto!" Izuku says, Shouto misses his smile and wave, already headed out the door. The fullness in his chest is disconcerting, the shades of green painted behind his eyelids is comforting, and the echo of a boisterous laugh has his heart racing double time.

He's not sure why, but he feels like Izuku didn't have to see his resume to know his name.

**There are four options today! Please respond with both an A or B AND 1 or 2.**

**Would you rather?**

**A. This be a soulmate AU set in the canon of my fic Paths Steeped in Patience (you won't need to have read it to understand the rest of the story)**  
**B. The more realistic approach, Izuku went to the same high school as Shouto**

**From whose POV**  
**1\. Izuku**  
**2\. Shouto**

**(A/N: ****Wow! Lots of options today! I can't wait to see what y'all choose! As always you can find me at my tumblr: wordsandstuffbyme. Thank you for reading! You're #1!)**


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